


Deep Inside This Hole, I Will Offer You My Soul

by Storyofmythigh



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, University, Writing, larry - Freeform, writing center
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 13:03:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14874252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Storyofmythigh/pseuds/Storyofmythigh
Summary: Louis is forced to see a writing tutor once for a class requirement. If he keeps going back to the writing center, well...that's his own business.title from Basement's "Whole"





	1. One

Louis didn't want to see a tutor. He felt his essay was just fine the way it was, and he didn't see how having some other undergrad student read over it would help a significant amount. He didn't have a choice, though. The professor required that every student in the class make at least one appointment in the writing center. They had to bring proof that they'd been and that they'd made revisions to their papers. Louis found it ridiculous.

All the same, he signs himself up for an appointment and drags himself into the library's basement when the time comes. It seems to be a fairly chill environment, at least. There's music playing softly, setting a gentle undertone for the low hum of students talking quietly as they work. The girl at the front desk checks him in and tells him that his tutor will be with him in a few minutes. Louis can't even remember the tutor's name, honestly. He maybe should have tried to remember it so as to not be rude, but he's so irritated with the whole ordeal that he just doesn't care. He'd wanted to sign up with Zayn, anyway, hoping his friend would simply sign his form and send him out, but he'd been booked solid for the week. He tries not to dwell on it, looking around from the small waiting area to survey the room.

There's a few people here he knows, actually, most of them here for the same reason as him. There seems to be a small section where grad students have congregated to work, while the rest of the space seems to be filled mostly with undergrads. There's no central "boss" figure, not so far as he can tell, anyway. He knew the writing center was primarily student-run, but he'd yet to see it so far, despite the fact that this is his second year at uni. He'd never had a reason to come here before today.

Louis' pulled from his observations by a deep voice gently saying his name. He looks up to find a boy standing over him with a small, welcoming grin. Boy may not be an accurate description, actually. Louis would maybe categorize him as an angel. It's unfair for someone to be that pretty, really. Louis' consumed by deep dimples, bottle-green eyes, cheekbones, and curls. Louis falls in love with his curls instantly. 

"Louis?" The boy prompts again, seemingly unbothered by Louis' staring.

"Oh, yes." Louis tries not to let his cheeks flame, but he isn't sure it works.

"Hi. I'm Harry. You can follow me back here and we'll get started with your appointment." Louis stands and tries to walk, tries to make himself stop staring, but honestly. Harry's gorgeous. Louis' kind of irritated that he hadn't been made to come to the writing center before now, just for how captivated he already is by this boy.

Harry leads them to a small, round table, pulling a chair out for Louis before taking a seat next to him. Louis can feel the heat radiating off of his skin. He tries not to let himself be flustered by it.

"So I looked over your client form, and we're just working on a literary analysis today, correct?"

Louis nods dumbly, pulling out his laptop just to keep his hands busy and to make himself seem a little less useless. 

Harry smiles wide. Louis wants to die. "Great! Those are my favorite. What's the text you're analyzing?"

"Jane Eyre." Louis' tongue feels thick in his mouth, makes him almost stumble over his words. Or maybe that's just a side effect of sitting in Harry's glow. 

Harry wrinkles his nose politely. "Not my favorite, but I've read it before, so I can be slightly more useful. Do you have the prompt or rubric with you?"

Louis digs in his bag, eventually pulling out the crumbled rubric, apologizing as he hands it over. "Sorry for that. I'm a bit of a mess."

Harry smiles again. Smiles smiles smiles. Louis' spinning. "That's alright. I find that the best writers are often the biggest messes, and anyway, at least you had it with you." 

Louis tries to distract himself from the angelic face and deep voice beside him by pulling up his assignment on his laptop while Harry skims over the rubric. By the time the document's fully loaded, Harry's setting the rubric down on the table, leaning in closer to look at the laptop screen. Louis tries not to combust.

"Alright, so it looks like you've already met the page count. Is this a first draft or...?"

"Well, honestly, I'd considered it a final draft. My professor required that we come in to see a tutor to get full points on this assignment." Louis tries not to feel cocky saying this. Harry's consistent, gentle grin helps put him at ease. 

"I know exactly which class you're in. I've had three other clients today for this same assignment. All the same, let's just read through. What I typically do with my clients is have them read their paper out loud, unless you'd be more comfortable with me reading it?" 

Louis decides on Harry reading it, keeping silent on the fact that he'd only gone for that option to hear more of the low rumble in Harry's voice. Harry obliges happily, beginning with the introduction of Louis' paper and continuing through the essay steadily. He stops a few times to compliment the vocabulary or the sentence structure. Louis tries to contain the swell of his heart.

Harry finishes reading the five pages quickly enough, wrapping up the conclusion and sitting back from the screen. He looks to Louis with a pleased (and…proud?) look on his face. "It's a lovely paper." Louis thinks that's it-the appointment's over and his essay's done- but then Harry continues with, "I have just a few suggestions." He leans back in to scroll through the paper.

"The vocabulary and structure are both excellent, so no worries there. I'm concerned that your professor might find your argument synthesis to be a bit weak. I've taken Dr. Stowe before," he defends when Louis accidentally lets his face betray his offense," so I know how particular he can be about things like this. I think it's a good paper, but you could take your analysis a little deeper. Doing that would help your argument piece together more definitively, and it would just help to solidify the 'feel' of your paper a bit more, you know?"

Louis hadn't expected for Harry to find anything wrong with his essay. He can't decide if he's more offended, surprised, or embarrassed. Whatever he feels, he gets a bit snappy from it. "How exactly do you suggest I do that?"

Harry takes the snark with ease. "There are some quick ways to strengthen your points. More textual examples always help. Also, with the examples that you've already included, you discuss their meaning within the novel quite well, but you could discuss them in the context of when Jane Eyre was written. You could write a bit more on the fact that this is a work from a female author and work that into your analysis. Like I said, it's a very strong paper already, so I'm sure however you choose to revise it will be more than sufficient."

Sufficient. Louis can feel the word on his tongue. It's one he uses in his writing, frequently, but he rarely says it aloud. There's a weird satisfaction to hearing Harry's mouth shape the word. He wants to hear more.

Louis sighs and forgets his attitude in seconds. "Alright, that sounds fair enough."

"Did you have any specific questions or concerns with this assignment?"

Louis bites his lip. "Actually..."

They finish the appointment right on the hour. If Louis had just left when Harry had finished reading, they would have spent maybe 20 minutes together at most. He can't help but to busy Harry with questions he knows the answers to, with made-up concerns, just to keep him longer. Harry takes it all in stride, answering as best as he can, keeping his smile up through the entire appointment. He's polite right up to the end, only finishing their appointment when the receptionist comes to let him know that his next client’s available.

"Well, I'm afraid we've run out of time. Feel free to make another appointment if you have anything else you'd like to work on!" He lets Louis pack up while he greets his next client, waving Louis off with a "Good luck on that paper!"

Louis walks upstairs and into the real world again, clearing his head slightly. Had that really just happened?

   
***

   
Harry's next appointment is just with Niall, so he isn't too worried about keeping it professional. The moment they’ve sat down and the door shuts behind Louis, Harry leans in with wide eyes. "Did you see him?"

Niall gives Harry a knowing, teasing glance while fishing around for his lab report. "Yeah. He's fit, mate. You should go for it."

"Dunno if I'll ever have the chance to. I've never seen him in here before, and he's a pretty strong writer, unlike some." Niall isn't even phased by the jab. "I don't think he'd have a reason to come in again." 

"Give yourself some credit, Haz. He was interested, trust me. I'm sure he'll turn up again."

"You think so?"

Niall snorts. "For sure. A good writer couldn't have taken up the full hour without other motivations."

Harry tries not to look too pleased. He grabs Niall's lab report, intending to drop the Louis discussion for the time being, but Zayn stops by their table on his way up to work reception.

"Hey, Haz. Did Lou give you too much trouble?" The smile in his voice suggests that he knew something about the hint of attitude that had briefly crept into Harry's consultation with Louis.

"Nah, he was fine. Good writer, actually. D'you know him?" 

"Yeah, we were roommates last year. Still see him quite a bit. He's alright, but he can be a pain when he wants to. Sounds like he treated you okay, though." Zayn grins suggestively, leaving Harry to work with Niall. 

Harry stumbles through the errors in Niall's writing for the next hour, trying to work around the Chemistry information he doesn't understand while simultaneously trying to keep his mind off of Louis. 

 

***

   
Louis doesn't mean to go back to the writing center so soon. He tries to play it cool, honestly, but the opportunity had presented itself in the form of an environmental paper. He hates his environmental class anyway, so he's content to write a few ideas and turn the assignment over to Harry for suggestions.

Harry hadn't seemed too surprised to see Louis back so quickly. He'd seemed delighted, Louis thought hopefully. He'd been more than happy to look over what little Louis had written so far.

"This seems like a pretty solid start. We can start by discussing the format you're required to use for..."

Harry trails off when Zayn passes by the table on his way to greet his own client, giving Louis and Harry both a sort of knowing look, focusing on Louis just long enough for a casual, "Hey, Lou." Louis' going to kill him, maybe.

"You know Zayn," Harry comments.

"Yeah," Louis confesses. "We used to room together."

"Why not schedule an appointment with him if you knew him?" Louis imagines it, probably, but he would swear there's a touch of insecurity mixed into Harry's curious tone. A tiny need for reaffirmation is all that it seems. 

"His schedule's completely filled for weeks, or I would have."

Harry snorts delicately. "Oh, right. He's quite popular." 

"Can't imagine why," Louis mumbles, watching Zayn's cheekbones and warm, mysterious eyes from across the room. "Wonder he'd still be so popular if his clients knew he was taken." 

"They know, trust me. Liam's in here constantly to make sure they know." 

Louis giggles at that, pleased with the way Harry smiles at him for it. He tries not to blush, looking back down at the paper. "Anyways, Harry, I'm quite content with the tutor I've got. Don't need Zayn to boss me around."

He catches the way Harry tries to hide his grin and pink cheeks behind his hand. Louis' already in so deep, he knows, and it's only their second time meeting. He thinks he’s pretty okay with that. 


	2. Two

Louis becomes a bit of a regular after that, coming into the writing center weekly, always to work with Harry. It becomes comfortable surprisingly quickly. He finds constant warmth from Harry's gentle guidance, from his rumbly voice, from his big smiles. It's comforting in a way he doesn't truly recognize yet. It feels intense, but also, impossibly light, like Harry's picking up his soul and pinning pieces of it to the ceiling so it stays lifted. Louis tries not to dwell on it too much, a bit scared by how much he feels, especially when he doesn't even know if Harry feels the same. They've only just met, for Christ's sake, but Louis can't help it. Harry's too perfect. 

The only true struggle, aside from feeling like an obvious creep, is finding things to work on with Harry. Louis only has so many papers. He resorts to bringing in his application for study abroad, his résumé, his most basic assignments. He keeps claiming that he's just looking for extra reassurance, and Harry keeps letting him get away with it. It's working, at least for the time being. 

He sees Harry around on campus more, now that he knows who to look for. Harry's usually with a blonde guy. Niall, Louis thinks. Knowing (from Zayn's confirmation) that Harry's gay, Louis worries about Niall at first. This worry is quickly eradicated when he sees Niall in a practice room in the fine arts building, shamelessly pressed up against the wall with a girl. Louis giggles about it and secretly feels relieved knowing that he's not dating Harry. 

The first time Louis actually talks to Harry outside of the writing center is in Starbucks, late on a Friday night. Most students were either home for the weekend or out at parties, so Louis had counted on the coffee shop being fairly empty. He hadn't counted on joining Harry in the short line. 

Harry looks easily surprised, but ultimately pleased. "Louis!" 

"Hey, Hazza." He hadn't meant to pick up the nickname, but between Liam and Zayn both constantly talking to Harry during his appointments with Louis, it had become stuck in his mind. He'd felt immediately awkward the first time he accidentally said it aloud, but all that Harry had done was smiled dopily, responded to it with no qualms.

Louis felt that was Harry's way of giving him permission to keep using it. 

"Didn't expect to see you here. Well, didn't expect to see anyone here, actually."

"Same. I just thought I'd try and force myself out of my room for a while."

"Not adjusting to the hermit lifestyle well, are you?"

Louis giggles and shoos Harry up to the registers when the cashier clears her throat. He joins him again after they've both ordered. 

"So, got any big plans for tonight?" Louis asks, trying not to sound overly interested. "Besides late night coffee, of course." 

Harry smiles. "Not really. I thought I might come here and read a bit, or something. My roommate's got people over, so I opted out of staying in our room." 

The barista calls Harry's name. He thanks her, taking his drink and taking his place next to Louis again. "I'm guessing you don't have plans either?"

Louis mocks offense. "Excuse you, I am obviously about to embark on a grand adventure. Doesn't everyone stop at Starbucks before doing that?"

Harry's eyes twinkle. "If they don't, they should."

The barista calls Louis' name, then. Louis takes his drink, thanks her, and turns back to Harry. "Well..."

Harry smiles knowingly. "Want to walk with me?"

   
***

   
Harry takes them to the other side of campus. Their drinks are cold by the time they sit under a circle of trees, but Louis finds he doesn't really mind. He leans back on his palms, feeling more confident in the dark of night. Invincible, maybe. Magic, almost.

"So, Harold." Harry giggles. Louis' heart skips at least three beats. "I feel that I know nothing about you."

"Really? I felt like our souls already knew each other, somehow," Harry says in a mocking, hurt tone, pouting to emphasize the effect. Louis tries not to read too much into it.

"Well, my soul doesn't know where your soul is from. It doesn't even know your soul's major."

"My soul is an English major, to no one's surprise. And it's from Holmes Chapel. It would like to know the same from your soul." Harry's obviously having fun with this.

"My soul is an undeclared major from Doncaster."

"Interesting. Does it have any idea what it might like to major in, or would that question frighten it?"

"It's definitely shaking in fear." 

Harry laughs too loudly for the still night air, but Louis absorbs the sound into his skin and feels a bit like he might be floating. He speaks again just to distract himself from it. "Why are you a writing tutor?"

"It's easy money, if I'm being honest. It's good practice, too. I think I might teach after I graduate."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I want to help kids learn to like English. So many people hate reading and writing, and it's just because they haven't been given the right opportunities, or the right materials."

Louis' enchanted by the way Harry talks. "You're passionate about this, then?"

Harry might blush. If he does, it's masked by the dim lighting. "Yeah, I suppose. I just..." he trails off momentarily, his already slow voice coming to a brief still as he thinks. "Well, I care about it."

"That's not what you were going to say," Louis says, a bit surprised at himself for daring to voice such a truth.

"It wasn't anything important. Just some nonsense, really." Harry's embarrassed. Louis' never seen him embarrassed before. 

"No, I want to hear it."

Harry fidgets under Louis' suddenly intense gaze. "I guess I just wish that more people knew how beautiful words can really be. Everyone's assigned books with great meaning, but they're not necessarily the books that resonate with current students. Let's be honest, a lot of them are boring. And then people grow up thinking they don't like reading when really, they've just not been reading what's right for them. And all the writing we ever do in school is academic. It's never creative or exploratory at all, really. No one gets the chance to figure out that they may actually..." Harry slows again, seeming to realize how long he's been talking. "Oh god, sorry. I'm a bit of a rambler."

"I like listening to you talk," Louis makes himself say. It's worth it for the look on Harry's face.

"Yeah?"

Louis sits up straighter, leans forward a little. "What do you like to read? Or write, I suppose."

Harry shrugs bashfully. "Dunno that I have a lot of specific interests, really. I like Gaiman quite a bit. Toni Morrison's one of my favorite authors. And I love reading lyrics. I reckon that's a bit silly, but I like it anyway. And I write anything I can, whenever I have the time. I just love the words."

"None of that is silly." Louis absolutely lives for the way Harry glances up at him from under his eyelashes. "It's good you care so much about something."

Harry takes his turn to ask questions. "You don't?"

"No, I do. I care about a lot of things. I just don't have one, strong interest."

"Really? Not one?" Harry prods.

Louis bites his lip, feeling a bit childish, but also loving the feel of Harry's attention. "Well, I like music. It just doesn't seem like a very practical pathway for school."

"What would you do with music?"

"I guess I'd write. I've always written songs," Louis confesses, feeling heat in his face. "They're nothing special, just little projects I've kept myself busy with."

"I'm sure they're wonderful," Harry says in a low voice, much quieter than before, almost like he doesn't trust himself to speak. 

They sit in a comfortable silence for a few moments, laid out on the ground underneath the trees and the moon. Harry nudges Louis' thigh with his toes eventually, grinning at him when he looks over. "Look at us," he says, in the same low voice as before. "A reader and a writer, and a writer."

Louis smiles. He likes that.

   
***

   
It's a few weeks later that Louis begins to see another side to Harry. They'd been getting to know each other both in and out of the writing center, sure, but so far, Louis had only ever seen Harry cheerful and smiley. It seemed like a permanent state for the curly-headed boy. Louis hadn't anticipated seeing any change to this.

The writing center stays open late on weekdays, until 10. Louis had made an appointment at 9 on Friday, possibly for the hope of hanging around with Harry after. He wouldn't ever admit to it out loud, though. When he'd come downstairs in the library, though, it seemed like maybe Harry would just need to get out as soon as possible.

  
Zayn and Liam are both sat at reception, looking over something on a shared laptop. Zayn looks up when he hears the door open, looking relieved when he sees it's Louis. 

"Hey, Lou. Got an appointment?"

"Yeah, with Harry."

"What a shock," Zayn teases. He checks Louis in on the computer. "Might be a bit careful with him tonight, if I were you." 

"Oh. Is he alright?" Louis tries to hide his immediate and obvious concern. 

"He's had a rough day." Zayn's voice drops lower, motioning Louis to lean in closer. "The client he's with now is one he's worked with before. She brings her papers in all the time and expects us to just rewrite them for her. Harry's been working with her all week."

Louis straightens up quickly when he hears the sound of Harry ending the appointment, politely walking the girl to the door and wishing her well. He's exhausted, clearly, but he attempts a smile for Louis anyway. "Hey, Lou. Come on, let's sit down." 

Louis follows Harry, going through the motions of sitting down and pulling out his laptop like it's just any appointment, but it's not, really. He knows that.

Harry doesn't seem to know that. He tries to keep professional and friendly, pretending to be interested in Louis' made-up assignment. "So, what have you gotten written so far?"

Louis doesn't even touch his laptop. "Harold, you know we're proper friends now, right?"

Harry looks very quietly pleased, but he tries not to show it. "Of course. Why?"

"Well, for one, you don't have to pretend to be in a good mood for my sake."

Harry's face falls immediately with Louis' permission. Louis would swear he sees Harry tear up a bit, but he looks away before Louis can tell for sure. "Thanks, I guess. Just had a shit day."

"Zayn told me about the repeat offender."

Harry shrugs. He looks small, swallowed up in a dark sweater, covering his many tattoos. "She's not so bad, really. Was just a bit annoying."

"What's been going on then, love?" Louis holds back a self-inflicted cringe, tries to not let his face betray that he hadn't meant to say that. Harry doesn't seem to take notice. 

"It's just a rough day, honestly. I didn't get nearly enough sleep last night, for one. I talked to my mum this morning and realized how long it's been since I've gone home. And I forgot to print something out for my Anthropology class, so that was 50 points wasted over something stupid. My roommate's being annoying and I just wanted to go back to our room and take a nap after my classes, but he was being loud so I just left. I've been here at work since then." 

Louis winces in sympathy. "That sounds awful, Haz."

Harry shakes his hair out in his hands. Louis tries not to melt. "Thanks. It's okay, really. I'm just a little on edge." Louis doesn't buy that as the whole truth, but he lets it go. 

"I won't keep you here, then. You should go get some sleep."

Harry shakes his head. "Nope. We can work on whatever you've brought in. It's no worry." Louis doesn't look convinced, so Harry sighs and confesses, "I can't go back to my room yet, anyway. My roommate's got his girlfriend over. He's supposed to text when they're 'finished.'" 

Louis winces. "Ugh. That's truly the worst." Harry accepts the pity with a light shrug. Louis bites his lip and tries to think of how to proceed next. "Want to go upstairs, then? I'll buy you a coffee, keep you entertained," he tries.

It works. Harry thinks for a beat before offering a small smile. "Sure. Just let me clock out first."  
 

***

   
They spend over two hours in the coffee shop. Harry keeps checking his phone, waiting for the text from his roommate. Louis isn't offended, knows that Harry's just itching to get some sleep. He finally breaks around 11, making himself voice the idea he'd had earlier.

"You know, Harry, my roommate's gone for a conference. You could stay with me, if you wanted. You'd get some sleep, at least."

"I couldn't do that to you," Harry's mouth says, but his eyes say  _yes yes yes, please_. 

"You wouldn't be doing anything to me except assuring me that someone I care for is getting something close to a healthy amount of sleep. Unless you snore, of course. That might an unpardonable offense."

"Bad news," Harry grins softly.

Louis pretends to look put off for about 2 seconds before letting his face relax. "I suppose snoring isn't all bad, really." Harry looks at him calmly, hopefully. Louis tries again. "Say yes. It's just for the night, and you'll feel so much better." 

It takes a few more tries, but eventually, Harry's giving in and rolling his eyes at Louis' exaggerated cheer. 

   
***

   
"God, I'm so sorry for the mess." Louis tries to kick some of the clothes under the bed, throwing empty bottles into the trash can by his desk while Harry watches with dull amusement. "I swear it's not usually this bad." He's trying to keep his embarrassment hidden, but he hates that Harry can see what a huge mess he is.

"Lou, it's alright. I'm messy too."

"That's not true." Louis thinks of Harry's organized notes, his clean workspace. Harry has an organic feel to him, but it's decidedly not messy.

Harry grins a little when Louis calls him out on it. "It's not. I just wanted to make you feel better. But I don't mind the mess, honestly. You're doing me a huge favor letting me stay here tonight. That's all I care about."

Louis halts his efforts to rapidly clean his room. "Well...if you say so. Next time it won't look like this, though. Promise."

"Next time?"

Louis' cheeks burn, and he ignores both the warmth in his face and Harry's question. "So, I thought of offering you my roommate's bed, for the sake of space and all that, but truthfully, I just can't recommend sleeping on that mattress. I know of what's happened on it, and you don't deserve the punishment of even touching the sheets."

Harry wrinkles his nose in the direction of the other bed. "I trust your opinion. The floor's fine, though. I think I could sleep anywhere, at this point."

Louis scoffs. "Harry Styles. I would not invite you in and have you sleep on the floor. You'll take my bed, and I'll sleep on the floor."

Harry frowns. "I'm not going to put you out of your own bed."

"And I won't even hear of you sleeping on this floor. Just look at it, Haz. It's unsuitable for prisoners to sleep on."

Harry scans the ground with sleepy eyes, taking the mess into consideration. He bites his lip hesitantly when he looks up at Louis again. "Well," he drawls, "you do have one of the bigger mattresses." Louis' heart jumps up and lodges firmly in his throat. Harry continues when Louis doesn't immediately answer. "I'm not bothered to share if you aren't."

Louis forces his nerves to stop singing for a few seconds so he can say, "Yeah, yeah. That sounds alright." He tries to stay calm, but he's not sure Harry is buying it. Although really, Harry seems a bit too tired to care very much. 

Once they've decided their sleeping arrangement, it becomes Louis' mission to give Harry a cleansing, fulfilling night's sleep. He gives Harry a new toothbrush to use, lends him joggers to sleep in. He even breaks out the extra blankets from his closet, knowing that the room can get a bit chilly at night. Harry just smiles and accepts everything with quiet thanks, turning softer and sleepier by the minute. Louis' torn between wanting to pinch his cheeks and wanting to snog him senseless. He settles for neither, pushing the thoughts from his head as he joins Harry in the bed.

It's one of the bigger beds, but it's still a tight fit for two grown boys, especially with how lanky Harry is. Louis fights relaxing into the mattress for all of two minutes, trying to give Harry polite space to sleep, but it's impossible. He forces the tension out of his legs and arms slowly, only hesitating again when his side brushes Harry's. Harry, already mostly asleep, moves into the touch. Louis tries not to read into it too much. He turns out the light and tries to balance his need for sleep with the excitement of having Harry in his bed. It takes hours, but he gets there eventually, drifting off with Harry's warmth and light snores calming him into sleep.

   
***  
 

Harry had expected for this night to be like other nights, if not a little worse from staying in a new bed. He'd fully expected to take hours to quiet his thoughts enough to find sleep. He thought he'd be waking up a few times, and then taking ages to fall back asleep. He thought it would be light, restless sleep. An entirely unfulfilling experience. It's what he's become accustomed to. 

Instead, he fell asleep nearly the instant Louis had shut the light off. Even more miraculously, he'd stayed asleep. He'd slept through the night, for a full 9 hours, according to Louis' clock. It was amazing.

Harry glances to his right to see Louis still asleep, facing away. The light streaming in from the window dances through his hair and across his skin. He's golden all over, Harry thinks. 

There's a voice in Harry's head that pops out at moments like this. It speaks in clichés and cheesy tones that Harry could never verbalize, or even type out without feeling ridiculous. He accredits this voice to the numerous romance novels he'd read, the ones that made his heart ache with what he didn't have. It feels silly, so he keeps it to himself, but it's very much a part of him nonetheless.

As Harry wonders how he managed to sleep so well, the voice resonates smoothly in his skull.

_My soul is at rest, next to his soul._

Harry locks away the thought and forces his eyes away from Louis, trying to enjoy the peaceful morning moment rather than losing himself in the mental monologues that he'd been fighting for months. He can’t help the ache that comes from deep within his chest, though. It’s the ache of his ribcage opening, readying itself to participate in a trade of affections, making room for a separate energy to enter and swirl its way around the solitary residential heart. It’s a pain that Harry had become familiar with, and it deepens and swells the longer he lets himself lay next to Louis.

He bites back the throbbing hurt and lays there anyway. Louis wakes up eventually and makes Harry get breakfast with him.

Harry can't stop thinking the whole time about every other person he's gotten close to, aside from Niall. Friends just didn't seem to stick, for some reason. Relationships were few and short-lived. He's felt things similar to this before, similar to this feeling of  _need you, want to be with you, want to listen to you forever._ It's never been so urgent and so immediate, but it's not an unfamiliar experience. He's both terrified and resolved to the fact that whatever this thing is with Louis, it won't last very long.

It's already been months; surely they're coming up on their expiration date soon. 


End file.
